


Peachy

by verfound



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: But what's that make Mari then?, Companion to WM2019: Hope, Day 10 - Baked Goods, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Labyrinth References, Light Angst, Luka is a Giant Dork, Lukanette, Lukanette Month 2019, Lukanette September 2019, Peaches - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: The only reason Luka was at the bakery was because he was craving some macarons.  Not because he had the feeling Marinette was avoiding him and he missed her or anything.  (Companion to WM2019: Hope.)





	Peachy

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a companion piece for Ch15 of the Writer’s Month ficlets (Aug 21: Hope) – more specifically it’s the bit where Luka goes to talk to Marinette. That was written before Reflekdoll & Desperada aired, so this pretty much ignores those two eps, but that ficlet should probably be read before this one. (The gist: Juleka is a Concerned Baby Sister and tells Marinette to stay away from Luka if she still loves Adrien. Marinette respects her wishes; Luka doesn’t.) This also follows the Day 10 theme of Lukanette month (Baked Goods). I’ve got like an hour to kill between work and class on T/R, so I wrote this up then because the one scene would not get out of my head, and it just tied in perfectly with Hope. (There are so many cheesy Labyrinth jokes ahead of y’all, but if you haven’t serenaded your crush with Labby!Bowie what are you even doing with your life?

Luka Couffaine was annoyed.

…no, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t _annoyed_. He was…not upset, not really. Perplexed? Maybe. Agitated. Concerned and trying to keep the concern from turning into worry. A little afraid. A little lonely, too, if he was being honest.

The point was he didn’t feel _good_, and in a city where feeling _bad_ can lead to looking like Daft Punk and stealing voices he felt keeping his emotions on the positive was a decent priority. He’d been watching the road by the river for over an hour now, the confusing tumble of negative emotions getting worse the longer he picked at his guitar. He knew what he was waiting for, but what he didn’t know was _why_. It was well past the time anyone would have shown up for a visit, and it’s not like the band had practice tonight. There was no real reason for he…_anyone_ to show up, really. And yet…

“Hey, Jules?” he asked. He didn’t look away from the road, but he knew he had her attention at the answering _Yeah?_ “Has Marinette said anything about coming by? She hasn’t been around in a while. I tried texting her, but…”

It sounded innocent enough, but he could feel the way Juleka’s eyes were boring into the side of his head. Like he’d pissed her off with his perfectly innocent question. (Which wasn’t fair, because Marinette wasn’t just _her_ friend anymore. She’d been spending so much time with the band, and even before that she had been coming around more and more often. She was his friend now, too, regardless of any extra feelings that might have definitely been swimming around beneath the surface.)

“She’s been really busy,” Rose answered when Juleka wouldn’t. She was still looking at whatever they’d been watching on the tablet, her feet kicking absently behind her as she giggled. “I asked her if she was going to swing by a practice soon, but she’s been swamped. Babysitting, and helping at the bakery, and she’s been getting a lot of commissions.”

…yeah, he had known that. She’d told him as much. Spring was a busy time for her parents, and there had been that end of year dance at the college she’d been busy making dresses for. Plus, the end of the school year meant exams and projects, so…he knew she’d been busy. He had figured as much, and she had confirmed it, and yet…

“She wanted to come by yesterday,” Rose continued, another giggle interrupting her, “but Alya roped her into another _Adrien_ thing, and – oof! What was that for, Juleka?”

Her shout from his sister’s slap covered the little _twang_ as his fingers slipped on the guitar. He didn’t even try to keep playing as his eyes narrowed at the road. It shouldn’t hurt like it did. He knew she still loved Adrien. He did. And he was ok with that, because if loving Adrien made her happy then that was all he wanted. And he knew, given Adrien’s restrictive schedule and controlling father, she had to jump at any opportunity to spend time with him that she could get. He understood – he would’ve done the same.

But it still stung that he could have seen her yesterday and she had chosen to spend time with Adrien instead. Especially when she saw him every day in class and he hadn’t seen her for…God, it had been weeks by this point. Nearly a month.

“Luka? Where are you going?” Rose called. He hadn’t even realized he was half across the gangway until she’d asked. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, slouched a bit more in on himself. He could still feel Juleka glaring at him.

_She’s gonna break your heart_, Juleka had told him barely a week after the first time Marinette had flailed into his life. _So stop being stupid._

“Getting some macarons,” he called back, waving them off as he hopped onto the sidewalk. He doubted Juleka was convinced, but it wasn’t strictly a lie. Macarons _would_ be where he was headed, when he finally got there. “Got a craving.”

– V –

It wasn’t a long walk to the bakery, but it was long enough. He could have gotten there quicker if he had taken his ma’s bike, but the late afternoon air was cool and the walk would help clear his head. Give him time to think. Maybe come up with a better excuse than _macarons_ when he showed up unannounced on her doorstep.

…the thought was enough to cause a white-hot flash of guilt to pass through him, and he paused on the first street corner to pull out his phone. Pulling up her text chain didn’t make him feel any better.

_Hey! On my way over. Craving some macarons. Any chance you’re free?_

He typed out _craving some Mari time, too_ before quickly deleting it. It was the truth, but he was fairly certain it was also too much. He hit send and waited. There was no response – not even an indication that she’d read it. His lips tightened into a frown as he glanced at the messages above it.

He hadn’t really thought much of her silence at first, but now that he’d had weeks to ponder on it…

_missed u at practice today _had been the first text, a few days after the incident with Bob Roth at TVi. She’d read the message within ten minutes, but it took her an hour to say _Sorry. Big report due tomorrow. Finishing it up._

But she hadn’t come to the next practice, either. Or the one after that. He didn’t start to worry until the next week, when he had to pick Juleka up from school for a doctor’s appointment. He’d waved to Marinette, hoping for a chance to talk to her before they had to leave, but she’d just smiled at him before hurrying across the street with Alya.

_Mari, did I do something? Did I say something when I was akumatized? I know you said I didn’t, but I feel like you’re avoiding me now. I’m sorry if I hurt you. Let me make it right? I miss you._

He’d watched his screen for a solid ten minutes in the waiting room as Marinette worked on an answer. The bubbles appeared and disappeared on his screen, and finally what he got was: _No! You didn’t do anything! Stop that right now! I’m so sorry. I’ve been SUPER busy. I’m not avoiding you! I would NEVER avoid you!_

It was another hour before she sent: _I miss you, too_.

So he had invited her to their next practice, but she hadn’t shown. When he had asked Juleka, Juleka had just shrugged and mumbled something about a school dance. A few days after that, he had received another text from Marinette with a picture of a dress made of murky blue-black and lilac. It was beautiful and made him think of twilit skies, but the accompanying message let him know she had intended the photo for Juleka.

_Nice dress,_ he had sent back, _but I don’t know if I’ve got the hips to pull it off._

(Juleka, who had been doing homework on the other side of the room, chucked a pocket dictionary at his head five minutes later and told him to stop breaking her friend.)

He hadn’t heard from her since then. He’d known Juleka had seen her – they still went to school together, and Juleka had gone to the dance the week before wearing the same dress from the photo – but Marinette hadn’t come to the boat. He’d tried texting her a few times, either just to say hi or when he’d seen something that made him think of her (there was a boutique opening that summer – and hadn’t she been raving about the designer a while back?), but he hadn’t received a reply.

…so it didn’t really surprise him when he sent her a text, telling her he was on his way over, and received radio silence as a reply. And by the time he’d arrived at the bakery, he knew that, most likely, he’d just be grabbing some macarons and turning right back around to head home. The thought shouldn’t have upset him as much as it did.

_Mari?_ he sent out. _I’m downstairs. Is it ok if I come up?_

Nothing.

_…please?_

There was no indication saying she’d even read his messages. He sighed and pushed open the door, breathing in the warm scent of freshly-baked bread and dusted sugar. There were only a few other people in the shop, and Sabine was working the till. He could hear her father singing with the radio in the back.

“Good af- Luka!” Sabine cried as she looked towards the door. He smiled and waved awkwardly, and she waved him over. “It’s so good to see you again! How have you been?”

He accepted her hug as the previous customer left the shop.

“I’ve been good,” he answered. He shrugged slightly. “End of school gets busy. Band’s doing great. I just stopped in to…”

He trailed off when he saw the display of macarons, his lips pulling into another frown. Sabine smiled kindly at him, an understanding twinkle in her eyes as she laid a hand on his arm. He jumped and looked down at her, and she nodded towards the back.

“She’s upstairs, if you’d like to head up,” she said. He pulled out his phone, but nothing had changed. The messages were still unread. Unanswered.

“…I really just came to pick up some macarons,” he said after a moment. He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You make the best in Paris, after all.”

“She was working on something last I was up there,” Sabine said, glancing at his phone. Her meaning was clear, even if he didn’t believe it: _she hasn’t checked her phone, sweetie._ She smiled at him again and squeezed his arm. “Go on up, sweetie. I know she’d love to see you. You can grab the macarons on the way out.”

He hesitated only a moment longer before he allowed her to usher him through the back. Tom looked up from where he was folding dough, a large smile spreading under his flour-dusted mustache.

“Luka! I was wondering when you’d show up again!” he laughed, smacking his palm against the dough sharply. The corner of Luka’s mouth quirked into a smile as he watched Tom work. “Here for Marinette? She was working in the kitchen upstairs last I saw her. Head on up, son. She’ll be glad to see you.”

He thanked him before heading through the door, but there was still that uncertain niggling in his gut. They seemed to know something he didn’t. It really didn’t feel like Marinette was going to be glad to see him. He checked his phone one last time before knocking on the door. The messages hadn’t changed in the minute or so since he checked downstairs. When there was no answer from the door, either, he cautiously pushed it open and poked his head in.

“Marinette?” he called as airy pop music filled the hall. His eyes widened when he saw her in the kitchen, and it was funny how quickly any doubts he’d had – any hesitation – vanished.

Her back was to him, and the music – the soundtrack from _Labyrinth_, of all things – was cranked up on the stereo, so of course she hadn’t heard him come in. On top of that, she was pulsing something orange in a blender as she sang along with the song. She was dressed simply, in cutoff denim shorts and a polka-dotted tank top, but as she spun away from the blender to grab a spatula from the drawer he noticed the decorative white apron she wore that called to mind images of crystal ballrooms and roofied peaches. His smile was so wide it hurt his face as he watched her sway, scooping the orange goop into a measuring cup. She was also barefoot. He wasn’t quite sure why that was sticking out to him so strongly, but the entire scene made his heart do a little jig in his chest.

“There’s such a fooled heart beating so fast, in search of new dreams – a love that will last within your heart,” she sang, and she was only _slightly_ off-key. He pressed his hand over his mouth to hide the smile – not that it mattered. She still hadn’t noticed him. She continued humming along as she placed a pan on the stove, and he made his move when she twirled away to grab the spatula again. He caught her up in her dance, and her eyes blew wide as she finally realized he was there.

“I’ll paint you mornings of gold. I’ll spin you valentine evenings. Though we’re strangers ‘til now, we’re choosing the path between the stars,” he crooned at her, smiling as he spun her in a waltz – or at least the closest thing to a waltz either of them knew. A delighted giggle escaped her, her cheeks dusting pink, and he squeezed her hand as he pulled her closer. He leaned down to her ear and continued, “I’ll leave my love between the stars.”

“Oh my God, you are such a dork!” she giggled, playfully slapping his chest. He continued to dance her around the kitchen, smiling warmly down at her. He wondered what that made her, since she was the one who had been singing along in the first place. Maybe they could be dorks together. That wouldn’t be so bad, he couldn’t help but think.

“Every thrill is gone – wasn’t too much fun at all, but I’ll be there for you-ou-ou,” he continued, and she giggled again as he mimicked Bowie’s articulation. The giggle turned into a delighted shriek as he dipped her, carefully maneuvering her around the table so she didn’t hit her head. “As the world falls dooooown!”

She collapsed against his chest as he righted her, laughing so hard he had to support her so she didn’t fall to her knees. Bowie continued to sing in the background about falling in love as the world falls down, about _falling-falling-falling_, but as he watched Marinette laugh he couldn’t help but think, _Too late, mate. It’s not _falling_ – it’s _fell_._

“Sorry,” he said when she finally calmed down. She lifted her hand from his chest to wipe at her eyes, and his lips quirked in an apologetic grin. “I hope you don’t mind, but your parents said it was ok to come up. I did knock – and I texted.”

“I never mind,” she said quickly, but she froze as she realized what she had said. She shot him a shy smile as she reached into her back pocket and checked her phone. The smile disappeared as she saw the texts. When she looked back up at him, her expression was filled with guilt. “…I’m so sorry.”

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, and she looked back to her phone to avoid looking at him. He could see she was scanning through the unanswered texts, both from tonight and before, and the silence began to stretch awkwardly between them as Bowie – _Jareth_ – berated Sarah for the hell she’d put him through.

_How you turned my world, you precious thing…_

“So do I want to know why you’re listening to the Goblin King?” he asked, hoping to distract her. Anything to get her talking again. To get her smiling. She looked up from her phone and _there_, there was the smile he’d been craving. She squeezed his shoulder where her other hand still rested, and he realized he should probably let her go.

_...you should definitely let her go_, Juleka’s annoyed voice sounded off in his mind, but his thumb rubbed absent-minded circles against her back, perfectly content to remain where it was.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of school,” she said, and he nodded. He knew that. It’s all Juleka and Rose had been talking about since they got home. “So the girls are coming over for a sleepover to celebrate. We were debating what movies to watch, and someone mentioned Labyrinth, and Mylène and Alix both said they haven’t seen it before, so –”

“…they’ve never seen it?” he asked, eyes widening in mock outrage. She gave him a look, and he shook his head. “No, no, no – that’s a _crime_. The hair! The pants! The glitter!” He gestured blindly with his free hand before leaning close and stage whispering in horror: “…the _pants!”_

“Oh my God,” she gasped, pressing her head against his chest as she started laughing again. “You’re supposed to be Juleka’s cool, smooth older brother. Why are you such a _dork?”_

“You love it,” he quipped, and they both froze that time. He coughed awkwardly and looked away, needing to stare at anything but the searching look in her eyes. He nodded towards the counter, where the blender was still set up. “So…those for the movie night, then?”

“Yes!” she squeaked, moving away from him to turn on the stove. He tried to not miss holding her. She stood at an angle, stirring the pan as she gestured to the table. “Peach mousse cakes! Because –”

“Cheesy eighties movies require themed snacks?” he asked, and she laughed as she nodded.

“I’m making the mousse now, and I have the soundtrack playing to set the mood,” she said. She grinned at him as “Underground” started playing. “Mood music is very important in baking, you know.”

“And who sets a better mood than Bowie?” he joked. At the look she gave him, he winked. “Truth hurts like hell, so he says.”

“Dork,” she said again, but he smiled as he walked over to her and peered into the pan. The orange goop – peaches, he was guessing – burbled at him like a certain bog, only this goop smelled worlds better. “You have to cook the peaches until they’re like a jam. Nice and syrupy. Then you add some gelatin, and when it’s cool you fold it into the whipped cream and put it on top of the cakes.”

She gestured to the table, where a dozen small pans were cooling on a rack.

“They need a couple hours to set, so it’s best to make them the night before you need them,” she said. “Almond cake, peach mousse, and I’m topping them with white chocolate ganache. I made some peach blossoms to decorate them with, too.”

“You are amazing,” he said, looking around the kitchen. He saw the various stations, saw the process now that she had partially explained it, but it was all chaos to him. He was barely a cook, let alone a baker. “I’d be so lost doing this.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” she said, shrugging, but he could see the pink warming her cheeks. She saw the praise for what it was, and she appreciated the acknowledgment. “So what are you doing here, anyway?”

The happy, peaceful calm that had settled over him since their dance shattered like a chair breaking through the walls of a crystal ballroom. He could hear the shards tinkling on the floor in the silence that stretched between them, and he desperately searched for an excuse – any excuse – beyond _you’ve been avoiding me_ and _I missed you_ and the must-never-be-spoken _I love you_ that were already glinting like glitter on the floor. She glanced up quickly from her pan, and he swallowed thickly as he leaned back on the counter. He’d been dreading that question the entire walk over here, and now that it had been asked he was still no closer to a good reason than…

“Macarons,” he said quickly, and he chuckled dryly at the look she gave him. Busted. He should have known better, when it came to her. “…ok. Fine. Maybe you’ve been too busy to come to any of our practices, and maybe I’ve missed seeing you. So maybe I wanted some macarons, and maybe I was hoping to see you while I was here.”

“That’s a lot of _maybes_ for something that sounds like a plan,” she teased. She paused her stirring to dump a tiny envelope of powder into a bowl with some liquid in it. She gave it a quick mix before she continued stirring the peaches. “And Alya’s my best friend, so I’m well-versed in _plans_.”

_…but Alya roped her into an _Adrien_ thing…_

“It wasn’t so much a _plan_ as a vague notion of wanting to see you and scrounging for a decent excuse,” he admitted with a shrug. He wondered if it was too much again, but she was still smiling. “So…not that I’m trying to make more _plans_, but if you’re doing a movie night, why not have it at the Liberty?”

“Huh?” she asked, looking at him in surprise. He shrugged.

“We do it all the time,” he said. “As long as the weather’s nice, and it’s supposed to be tomorrow. Jules has a projector that plugs into her laptop. We let out the mainsail and use it as a screen, and you know how our sound system is. It’s even better than going to the cinema.”

For a moment, she looked like she was honestly considering it, but then the guilt returned and she looked back at her pan. She raised the spatula, and he watched the puree slowly slide down the back. She nodded before taking the smaller bowl and adding it to the pan. He didn’t think she was going to answer until she said, “…I don’t think Juleka would like that.”

“Huh?” he asked, confused. “I just told you we do it all the time. She’d love it.”

“That’s not…I mean…I don’t think she’d like _me_ being there,” she said, the clicking of the stove turning off sounding final in his ears. Definite. His frown returned. “At your place.”

“You’re friends,” he said. “That’s…that’s dumb, Mari. Why wouldn’t she want you over? Wait, is this why you haven’t been by? Did something happen?”

She whirled around, panic filling her eyes as she waved her arms frantically in front of her. She shook her head and cried, “No, no, no! I wasn’t supposed to say that! I mean, no! Nothing happened! Forget it!”

Except he couldn’t. Not now that it was out there. Now that it had been said. He thought about the three weeks of unanswered texts, of missed band practice, of her ignoring him, and he thought about the guilt that had clawed at him as he wondered what he could have possibly done. If he had hurt her while under Hawkmoth’s control. Of what he could have possibly done that could so quickly drive her away. He couldn’t just _forget it_. His lips pressed tightly together as he gripped the counter hard enough that the edge pinched into his skin.

“Marinette,” he said, leveling her with a hard stare, “why would Juleka be upset with you coming to the Liberty?”

Her hands hung limply at her side. She looked down, unable to hold his gaze. She bit her lower lip, and it took everything he had not to reach out and pull that lip from between her teeth. He waited, and when she still didn’t answer he called her name again. She screwed her eyes shut and said, “…she doesn’t want me hanging out with you anymore.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, her words feeling like a blow to the gut. He knew Juleka had warned _him_ about spending too much time with _her_ – about falling for her – but to think that she had actually told _Marinette_ that…

But Marinette was still talking.

“Don’t be mad!” she cried suddenly, and she was touching him again. She’d removed his hands from the counter, holding them between her own. She squeezed them desperately as she searched his eyes. “Luka, she meant well, I promise! She just…it was my fault, really. After the studio…I told her I thought I liked you.”

…well. That was…not really a surprise, because he had suspected, had _hoped_, but it was still a surprise to hear her actually admit it.

“But she knew I still had feelings for Adrien,” she continued, and there was the rub. He tried not to visibly wince with her standing so close. To not let her see the hurt. “So she told me to stay away. Because she loves you, and she doesn’t want you hurt, and if I kept spending time with you you were going to get hurt, and –”

“Marinette,” he said, cutting off her ramble, and she swallowed her words as she looked up at him. “I love my sister, but she’s an _idiot_. I’m going to tell you what I told her: if I get hurt, that’s on me. Not you. She had no right to tell you to stay away. I didn’t…I _don’t_ want you staying away. I’ve missed you, Mari.”

“…I’ve missed you, too,” she said quietly. She leaned forward, and his arms came up to wrap her in a hug. “But Juleka was right, and it isn’t fair to you. If I wasn’t sure about my feelings, if I still cared for Adrien, it wasn’t fair to like you, too.”

“I haven’t been complaining,” he said lightly, and she almost smiled. “I knew all you could give me was friendship, and I was fine with that. I like being your friend. You’re a cool girl, Marinette.”

“…you’re a cool dork, Luka,” she quipped, and he laughed as he pulled her closer. She giggled, and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. She relaxed against him, and he thought maybe it was worth it. “You’re really not mad?”

“I’m annoyed,” he answered truthfully, “but I’ve been a little annoyed for a while now. I understand why she did it, though. It’s not like she hadn’t told me the same thing.”

“…what?” Marinette asked, looking up at him, and he shrugged.

“I already told you, Mari. You’ve been stuck in my head since we met,” he said. He looked over to the pan cooling on the stove, and he sighed. Well, here goes nothing, he supposed. “I’ve known you liked Adrien from the beginning, but that didn’t stop me from liking you, too. And Juleka could see that, and she told me not to because you were only going to break my heart. I just didn’t want to listen to her because I thought it might be worth it, in the end.”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, She laid her head back against his chest, her ear resting over his heart, and she hummed thoughtfully. He wondered what she was thinking about, but all she said when she finally spoke was, “…yeah, it might be.”

Good things can come from broken hearts. He still believed that.

“So can we agree Juleka should mind her own business, and I’m your friend, too, now, so maybe what’s actually going to hurt me is you ghosting me like you did?” he asked. She smiled slightly.

“…you know, I was going to come by yesterday,” she said. He remembered what Rose had said about the _Adrien thing_. “Then Mme. Chamack needed a babysitter, and I figured I’d just come to the next practice.”

“Rose had said you were with Alya and Adrien,” he said, though he regretted it when she winced.

“…yeah. Alya did that,” she said. “But…it’s not going to happen again. Adrien’s a friend, and Alya respects that now.”

“Just a friend?” he asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. He wondered what had happened yesterday – or over the past three weeks, even – to make her sound so sure of that.

“Just a friend,” she confirmed. She reached out and touched the edge of her pan, considered it a moment, and burrowed back against his chest. “I’ll call the girls later and see what they think about having the sleepover at the boat. It would be nice.”

“And I might be able to pilfer one of those cakes,” he said with a wink. “They sound delicious.”

“Even if they want to stay here, I’ll make sure Juleka brings you one,” she giggled. He scooped her up and spun them, her giggles once again turning into delighted shrieks.

“You’re the best, Mari!” he crowed, and she laughed at him to put her down. He did, but her feet had no sooner touched the tiles than he was sweeping her up into another dance. Bowie was singing about falling in love again, after all, and he was definitely feeling a little weightless as her laugh sang in his ears.

– V –

As he walked home later through the Parisian twilight, a pink box full of macarons tucked under his arm, he found his mind turning towards the coming summer and the promise of what it could hold. He thought of that boutique opening and wondered if Marinette would like to go. He thought of the concert series that would starting up in the park, of the practices she’d be sitting in on again, of peach-flavored mousse freshly made and melting on his tongue. He thought of dances around a kitchen table, of soap bubbles dabbed on cute button noses as he helped her clean up, of knowing smiles on parents’ faces as boxes too full of treats were shoved in his arms before he could say thank you or pay. He thought of Mari calling after him from the open living room window, waving goodbye as he made his way home, shouting that he was still the biggest dork she knew. Of proving her point by shouting back, “You starve and near-exhaust me!” Of her delighted giggles carrying through the night air as she told him to be safe and eat a macaron, then, if he was _starving_.

His smile was so wide it had hurt when he pulled out a macaron, took a bite, and the taste of peaches danced across his tongue. He wondered if she had planned that, but he just waved it at her and called, “I’ll see you in crystal dreams, precious thing!”

Her laughter had followed him the entire way home, and even seeing Juleka sitting at the kitchen table – remembering that she had told Marinette to stay away from him – couldn’t dampen his mood. She gawked at him as he chucked a macaron at her head, but he was smiling as he bit into another one before plopping down beside their mother at the table. It tasted like peaches, too.

“You suck.”


End file.
